Tipsy
by Obsidian Ocean
Summary: For once, she was not herself. Steve found Natasha alone and drinking in the kitchen. Romanogers


Steve did not expect to see anyone to be in the kitchen during that ungodly time in the morning. The sun was barely out, the room flooded in darkness.

But there she was, a certain petite red-haired woman was seated cross legged on the marble countertop, her eyes closed like she was meditating.

When she shifted a little, Steve could spot a peek of one of the many bottles of Tony's whiskey collection. So she was meditating with alcohol apparently.

"Hey." He called out softly, not wanting to startle Natasha too much. Her eyes opened lazily and her head cocked slightly to the side so she could see who was talking.

Steve always seen Natasha as this reformed, orderly person. To see her all messy haired and in clothes two size too big for her made him feel as if he had invaded her privacy, that he had accidently stumbled on the side Natasha didn't want him to see.

Expecting to receive a curt "good morning" back and then to be left alone in the kitchen as Natasha left, Steve was surprised when she laughed.

It wasn't the usual laugh she had – not the breezy, almost humorless laugh. No, it was a high-pitch squeal that emitted the sound of giddy joy.

That was strange – coming from Natasha anyways.

"Hay are for cows." She told him, giggling even more after every word. She took a swig directly from the bottle and plopped it down on the countertop again.

Oh no. Oh _no_. Steve never would have thought a situation like this would come – where he is forced to answer to Natasha when she being influenced by alcohol. A sober Natasha was already unpredictable and complicated to handle with, much less a drunk one.

Steve did _not_ trade the uncomfortable sleeplessness with this.

He took a few steps closer to Natasha, a little cautiously.

"First of all, hays are for horses." Steve corrected. Natasha didn't seem to mind him approaching her so he came closer. "And secondly – what are you doing here? It's like four in the morning and you're _drinking_. Alone."

Natasha paused, the bottle once again in her hand hovered mid-air. The rim rested on her lower lip. "It's four in the morning?" she asked blankly.

Steve lightly pried her fingers away from the whisky and put it far away from Natasha so she couldn't reach for it. "Yes, Natasha." He said patiently. "Tomorrow we still have training with the recruits remember?"

Displeased by having her drink taken away from her, Natasha frowned and crossed her arms, her feet tucked. She looked like a fuming child and it was almost impossible for Steve to smile.

Talking about the side Natasha didn't ever want to show him.

"What recruits are you talking about?" she tried lamely to swiped back her bottle but Steve stepped in the way, blocking it from her with his body.

"Natasha, we have been training with them for at least five months now." Steve grabbed Natasha's wrist before she could do anything more. "You know, Vision, and Rhodey–"

She perked up like she suddenly remembered. "Oh, with Wam and Sanda!" she recalled a little too enthusiastically.

Steve couldn't stop the grin spreading across his lips. "Sam and Wanda." He said. "Come on, let's get you a few hours of sleep to shake off the alcohol. You can just call in sick."

Gripping Steve's outstretched hand for support, Natasha jumped down the counter in a quick movement and nearly toppled to the ground as if she was pushed from behind.

Instead of landing felinely on her feet like she usually would, Natasha stumbled as if the floor was coated with ice. Her legs were shaky and every step she took was unstable, like she was going to drop any second.

That, of course, made Natasha smile even more – a wobbly curve of mouth that Steve found terribly amusing.

"How can I call in sick when I'm not actually sick?" she questioned. Steve ushered her slowly away from the kitchen, Natasha's arm hooked around his as he helped her so she wouldn't trip after every step.

"Never mind." Steve said. With Natasha stumbling at that tortoise speed, they wouldn't make any progress till the sun started to rise.

So Steve gave a little sigh and swung his arms beneath her knees. Before her head could hit the ground, his other arm braced Natasha's back and pulled her so her head was resting against his shoulders.

"Touchy." Natasha commented happily, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Her legs dangled in the air. Steve could see the clumsy paint job on her toe nails, gleaming a shade of dark crimson.

"I'll let go." Steve threatened jokingly. That made her cling on his neck tightly, arms slid over his shoulders and stayed there.

"Don't." she commanded, her voice muffled by the thin material of Steve's shirt. He could feel her lips move against his collarbone.

This sped up Steve's heartbeat. Everything around him suddenly wouldn't compare with the slight heat pressed against him.

The closest he and Natasha had been together was the kiss they shared in the mall, when they were trying to throw off Rumlow. And Steve swore after that day, he never could look at Natasha the same way again. Her eyes shone a little bit brighter every time she talked, all the details and the small secret habits she had suddenly seemed so prominent.

Steve always knew there was something between them. But he never really had the courage to explore into it. That kiss – it was a gateway to something he never wanted to admit. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. He wasn't prepared to hurt again.

Especially after Peggy.

Steve knew that he had to stay away from Natasha, because sooner or later, this would come back and haunt him. But he did not want to. Not at all.

Natasha was always something special – her presence was so intoxicating and so different from all the sea of plain faces. Every word she spoke and everything she did just left Steve with admiring wonder on how she could seem so small but still be stronger than anyone ever could be.

But sometimes, Natasha needed a break from reality too. Steve guessed that was why she was drinking – to forget, even if it was just for a while.

"Hey, why did you stop?" Natasha whined, hitting his chest with her balled fists. Steve quickly looked up from her face and stared ahead like nothing had happened.

"Um, sorry." Steve muttered. He moved his legs in a few quick strides and they entered the elevator.

The pleasant hum of Tony's computered A.I greeted them. "Would you like to reach to Miss Romanoff's floor, Captain Rogers?" a female voice asked.

Steve adjusted Natasha in his arms. "Yes, please. Thank you, Friday."

There was a soft whirl, almost resembling a laugh. "Anytime, Captain Rogers."

When the elevator slide open, they got out. He found her room and got in, pushing the door open with his broad shoulders.

The room was dark, no source of light could be found. Steve had to balance Natasha in one arm as his other hand slid down the smooth walls to find a light switch.

"It's behind the door." Natasha said in the darkness. Steve flipped the lights on.

The room was definitely messier than Steve thought it would be. Her sheets were unmade, balls of crumpled up lined paper littered the ground and her clothes were draped on everything that could be draped on. The closet pushed to the corner of her room might as well be empty with so much clothes strewn across the room.

Steve kept his mouth shut on making any comments and set Natasha down lightly on her bed. The white sheets beneath her wrinkled.

The duvet was piled up on the corner of her bed was soon spread out to be covering Natasha's body. The light colored material contrasted with her red hair.

"You stay here and get sleep." Steve told Natasha. She peered at him behind her mountain of pillows. "I'll come check up with you in the morning."

She didn't say anything for a while so he decided it was his cue to leave. Before Steve could even turn and walk out the door, her voice rang once more.

"Can you stay?"

Steve looked at Natasha's curled figure under the layers of covers. Her eyes so big and pleading that it was impossible to say no.

"Yeah, sure." He relented, sitting down on her bed. Steve could see a quick flicker of smile flash across Natasha's face.

Steve waited patiently for Natasha to fall asleep. But all she did was stare back and him with open eyes.

"Go to sleep." He said. Her mouth immediately set into a hard stubborn line.

"I won't." Natasha said. Steve rolled his eyes. "Unless –" she looked over to the empty space next to her and patted it. "You lie down with me."

Steve felt his eyes widen.

"Natasha, go to sleep." He said weakly.

She gave him a look and glanced next to her again.

Steve didn't know why he complied. He didn't have to. But he did anyway. He gone around to the other side of the bed and sat, retracting his legs up to the bed.

"Don't be shy, _Captain Rogers_." The words rolled off her tongue with a slight accent, mimicking Friday's words. Natasha tugged his arm, pulling him closer.

Their faces were just a few inches apart and Steve could feel Natasha's foot nudging his leg as she adjusted herself in a more comfortable position.

His heart was beating fast. Never in the world would he thought he might ever end up in the same bed as Natasha.

God that sounded wrong.

Steve was like a flustered mess, heat creeping up his neck and spread across his cheeks. His face angled stiffly on the pillow. The small smile of slight satisfaction on Natasha's face did not do any wonders either.

"So are you going to sleep now or am I just going to lie here until the sun comes up?" Steve asked to distract himself.

Natasha pulled the covers tighter around her. "I'll try." She said. He had a feeling she said that just to humor him.

"Try harder." Steve said. She sighed and closed her eyes grudgingly.

A wisp of hair escaped from behind Natasha's ear and hung over her face. Instinctively, Steve reached out to brush it back to place.

"Are you taking advantage of me, Steve?" Natasha muttered without opening her eyes. He huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah, what if I am?" Steve joked.

One of Natasha's green eyes cracked open. "I would let you, I guess." She shrugged. "At least there would be something good coming from this shitty day."

The first instinct that dawned Steve was to comfort her and chase all the bad things away. She just sounded so bitter and he didn't like the slight twinge of guilt and blame in her tone that indicated that whatever had gone wrong, Natasha believed was her fault.

To Natasha, everything was always her fault. That was one of the things Steve and her shared in common.

Reaching out, Steve touched her cheek with his fingers – just a light contact of skin at first. He kept it his hand still. Steve's thumb caressed her cheekbone lightly and suddenly, it was not really about friendly comfort anymore. It was leaning more towards the feeling in his chest that relied on only the warmth beneath his fingertips.

Natasha leaned into his palm.

"You're being really desperate." Natasha whispered, smiling against his skin.

"Am not." Steve gave her a grin, dimples etched on his face and a flash of his teeth. He made a big show on proving his point by retracting his hand away from her, even when the voice in the back of his head was yelling at him not to.

Immediately, Natasha held on tightly, fingers wrapping around his own to stop it from moving.

"Who's the desperate one now?" Steve teased. They were inching irresistibly closer and closer after every exhale of breath. He wondered if she was aware of that.

"Shut up." Steve felt a tug on his t-shirt. And then Natasha's lips were on his. And his lips were on Natasha's. And they were kissing.

Steve would never imagine this moment would ever come. The red lips that he may or may not occasionally dreamt about was just as warm and right as he thought it would be.

He was holding her, hand cradling the small of her back. Steve's hand was still occupied against Natasha's cheek, framing her jaw lightly. Her fingers threaded through his hair, making them stick up in different strange positions.

They kissed, long and sweet, until Natasha broke away to breathe again. Her face, already slightly tinted with the red from drinking, was now blushed with another layer of crimson.

"Desperate." Steve whispered in her ear. Natasha giggled as he pressed a kiss on her earlobe. And another. And another.

Natasha was so irresistible.

"Am not." She mirrored his exact same words.

All the doubts – of hurting, of loss, of heartbreak – it didn't seem to worry Steve anymore. With Natasha's body pressed against his, he came to the terms that maybe she was worth taking the shot for. Maybe she was worth hurting for.

Steve stroked Natasha's red hair and dropped another kiss on the crown of her head. "Now can you go to sleep?" he asked with exaggerated exasperation.

She wrapped her arms around Steve's waist and rested her head against his abdomen, cheek pressing against his shirt. "With you I can." She mumbled.

So Steve held Natasha all through the night and till the sun rose, with a nagging voice behind his head wondering how sober Natasha would react if she remembered what had happened.

"What did you say happen to Nat again?" Wanda crossed her arms in her black tank top. Behind her, muffled grunts and sounds of punches being blocked could be heard. "Why is she not here?"

Steve looked up from polishing his shield that was lying in his hands to meet her eyes. "Natasha isn't feeling well." He said smoothly.

There was a huffed of disbelief upon Steve's words. "Come on, Steve, you know her longer than I do. You know her _better_ than I do. We both know that she wouldn't turn down any chance to suffer and make unnecessary sacrifices. It's like one of the best things she could do."

Steve was going to give a laugh and try to divert the conversation to another route when he heard light footsteps behind him, bare skin padding lightly on the room's rubber mat tiles.

"Well, Maximoff, you got that right." A voice all too familiar scoffed.

Natasha shouldn't be here. She should be staying in bed for the rest of the day. But of course she was here. As referring to the words of Wanda: "unnecessary sacrifices".

The hangover look wasn't doing Natasha any favors too. Her eyes were rimmed with heavy bags of shadows and mouth dropping tiredly. Steve could almost feel the headache pounding in her head through her complaining eyes.

"Wow, you look like shit." Wanda went on straight-forward before Steve could stop her. Someday, the mouth like that would be the death of her.

Natasha showed her annoyance by pulling a pistol out from her thigh holster and lobbing it at the younger girl without any warning. Even with a hangover, her precision was still very accurate and her movements fast.

The weapon hit against Wanda's shoulder before she could use her magic to push it out of her way. It clattered to the floor.

"Ow." Wanda glared at Natasha, rubbing the sore spot. " _Zasranec_." (translation: asshole)

"Remember your first lesson – always be aware of your surroundings and always be prepared." Natasha said absently as if nothing had happened. She indicated at Wanda to hand her back the glock.

The glock sailed from the ground and straight towards Natasha's head, red smoke clouding beneath the weapon, supporting it up with air.

If Natasha wasn't Steve's partner and he had never seen her in action during fights before, he would be surprised of her reaction time. She snatched it from mid-air with a quick swipe of her arm and slide it back in her holster in one smooth movement.

Steve saw a flicker of disappointment on Wanda's face when the glock didn't hit Natasha's face. He had to hide a small amused smile to avoid getting nudged roughly in the sides by Wanda.

The relationship between Natasha and Wanda lied between the thin line of love and hate. The amount of petty arguments in an average day was surprisingly out of character for both of them. This also included a lot of Russian swearing and good natured insulting. _A lot_.

"Go over to Sam and practice your punches. From what remembered, you could hardly bring down a two-year-old with your blows." Natasha said.

"Fuck you." Wanda called out loudly to her as she made her way towards a sweaty Sam on the other side of the room.

Steve saw Natasha's lips curved into a lopsided smile and her eyes darted to him and she quickly looked away again as if she just seen something she was not supposed to.

They stayed in rigid silence as they observed the four recruits. It was not usually like that. In normal days, it would involve more talking and slaps on arms (in which Steve was the one being hit because he was making lame jokes about Sam to make Natasha laugh)

The mere sight of her pulled Steve back to last night. Her lips, her hands, her breath against chest and her eyes that shone so _green_ when they pulled back from the kiss. Steve felt like he was not the only one who was burdened by the memory too. Natasha was fidgeting and she refused to make eye-contact with Steve.

That drove him insane. He couldn't take it anymore.

"How are you feeling?" he blurted out. "You shouldn't have woken up so early, you know. I could have handled this myself."

 _Good going, Rogers. A simple "How are you feeling?" would have sufficed._

Natasha side-eyed him. "I'm a big girl, Rogers. I can take care of myself." She looked away again and Steve swore he saw a light dust of red color her cheeks.

"You know we need to talk about last night." Steve said. He could see Natasha's gaze sharpen. "You know we have to."

"Leave it, Rogers." Natasha snapped. "It never happened, okay?"

Steve was going to answer but then he saw Wanda's curious gaze wander over their direction. He set his mouth to a stubborn line and got up from the bench, setting his shield on the ground. "Come on."

"What?" Natasha's eyes widened as he proceeded to drag her out of the training facility. "Hey! What the hell!"

She surprisingly didn't put up much of a fight, probably because she didn't want to make a scene. Her glare was absolutely livid when they got outside with the doors closed.

"What do you want, Rogers?" Natasha crossed her arms.

"To talk in private about last night."

A sound of frustration and annoyance ripped through her throat. "There is nothing to talk about, okay?" she said. "We kissed. Big deal."

Steve felt his own anger bubbling in his chest. "It _is_ a big deal." He pointed out.

She groaned. "It was a mistake." Steve felt the words sting him like a slap to the face. "I shouldn't have done it. Did you drag me here just to hear me apologize?"

"No, of course not." He scrubbed a hand roughly down his face. "Why did you kiss me, Natasha?"

"I was drunk!"

Steve looked her in the eyes. "But I wasn't." he said quietly. It made her pause and her lower lip parted. She immediately composed herself, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Look, you can deny this all you can, Natasha, but we both know that there is _something_ happening." Natasha looked away, eyebrows furrowing. It was almost like they were remembering the stares and subconscious flirting simultaneously that had been going on for ages.

"You're crazy." Natasha said feebly. If it sounded believable, Steve would have actually let the subject be and pretend it never happened. "There is no you and I."

Steve didn't know what happened. Maybe it was that exasperated anger inside him, or the denial Natasha was living on that fueled his actions, but he did it. He pushed Natasha on the shoulders until her back hit the wall and he caged her with his arms.

It was like déjà vu – back in the hospital when Natasha had got hold of the drive Steve got from Nick Fury.

"Tell me that again." Steve said. Natasha's eyes darkened when she felt his breath on her face. "Tell me that again and I will forget about this. Forget that last night ever happened."

Through the corner of Steve's eyes, he could see Natasha balling up her fingers into fist. They breathed heavily in sync, glares connected.

Natasha exhaled. She mouthed "son of a bitch" before grabbing the hair on the back of his head and pulled him towards her. Her mouth pressed against his heatedly.

This time, it felt different, but still equally as satisfying. Natasha's nails were digging roughly into his skin, the back of his neck stinging. He didn't mind.

Steve's arm grabbed Natasha by the waist and pulled her closer so there was no space between them. His hand gripped on her bare skin as her top rode up, revealing her belly button.

"Oh my God, I hate you." Natasha gasped. Steve made her shut up by latching his lips on hers again roughly, hand travelling up. He could feel the metal hook of her bra.

Steve couldn't help but grin at the sound she made when he kissed down the column of her neck. He made sure to leave a mark or two before Natasha cupped his face and pulled him back to her.

Natasha licked the seam of his lips, asking for entrance in his mouth. He obliged and felt his blood buzz in his veins when gripped on him harder.

"Steve, should I – WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD!" Natasha pushed Steve away blindly and he stumbled a few steps backwards before regaining his balance. He turned to his right to find a mortified looking Wanda gaping at the both of them.

Steve panted and felt his cheeks burn like fire. He tried to resonate his breathing. "Um, Wanda, this is not what you think it is."

She looked from Natasha then back to Steve, mouth gaping. "I think you guys are making out outside the training room. Is it what I think it is?"

"Um, maybe." Steve ran his fingers through his hair to get himself together. Natasha was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. There was two dark marks etched on the side of her neck and it couldn't help but made Steve grin.

Wanda groaned. "I think I'm going to throw up." She complained.

Natasha spoke up for the first time, coming closer to Steve. His fingers twitched for her warmth. "Well, go throw up somewhere else, Maximoff." She looped her arms around his neck. "We're busy."

And with that, Natasha stood on her tip-toes to kiss him again. That tugged him away from his embarrassment and he found himself kissing her back softly, eyes closed.

"Oh my God." Steve heard loud footsteps as Wanda stomped back into the training room. Once the doors swung shut behind her, he slowly eased away from Natasha.

"She's probably off to tell everyone." He told her as she pressed a kiss on his collarbone, holding him by the front of his shirt.

Natasha looked up. "Who cares." She said. That made Steve smile and he lowered down to kiss her once again.


End file.
